Do you believe in Heaven?
by LoveTheLegend
Summary: Badboy!Blaine and angel!Kurt fic for Yu-oka. When Kurt is assigned his being to guard, he is forced to act as soon as he meets him, and must pay a small price; Kurt is imprisoned for 15 years in a blank dimension, while Blaine struggles just to survive.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This was written for the lovely artist Yu-Oka of DevientArt for her Badboy!Blaine and Angel!Kurt fic contest. Bad!Boy Blaine comes later, if you'll bear with me. This is the prologue to the story ^.^ I admit this isn't my best work. Yes, the title has been changed. I thought of it when listening to "Angels" by Sarah McLachlan._

_Happy reading!_

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

It was, without doubt, another beautiful fall morning, the leaves changing various shades of reds and purples, which always looked inevitably stunning from up in the clouds; up in the invisible kingdom that no man could ever touch or see without his or her soul being ripped from their own skin. This was the morning, Kurt knew, that he would get his wings, so he could descend back upon Earth to be a guardian of another being. Kurt had always hoped for it to be a human, another man perhaps, one that was very handsome and perhaps vocally talented as he was. After all, weren't all angels matched with beings that were most like them? Then Kurt had dreaded thoughts, such as _'what if I'm assigned to a homophobic being?'_, or _'what would happen if I was assigned to someone who needed no guidance? How boring would that be?'_ and even, _'what if they stick me with the son of one of the bullies that murdered me?'_. That thought haunted young Kurt to the core. How could he provide assistance to someone who lived with an unconvicted murderer? Just then he felt a light, dreamy tap on his shoulder, and he smoothly swiveled around to see one of the Winged Guardians of Skyloft, Jeffery, who was one of his friends that he had made in his many years in waiting.

"It is time." He said, smiling and motioning for Kurt to follow him as he led him to the center of the cloud city, to look down below through the circular hole in the cloud city where his kin would be waiting for him. The city was vastly clear for such a sunny day, the weather just right as always, for this was considered the heaven for the 'Blessed'.

You see, not every being down below had a guardian angel, which Kurt thought was preposterous, but instead only a select few who were believed to be 'Blessed' were chosen to be guarded. These people would always have an unusual advantage at everything; they always had extra help, no matter what it was they were doing. Kurt, however, was a special case; he, for several unknown reasons, was chosen to die blessed rather than being born one of these children. Kurt suspected it was the way he was killed, brutally shot by drunken homophobes, and left to die on the streets. But he could never be sure; the council never would tell him. He knew when he was done serving his duty on Earth, he would become a guardian, part of the council, or possibly even go back down to Earth to guard another being if he so chose. Kurt remembered remorsefully one of his friends who was assigned to a turtle that could for nearly five hundred years. Kurt had felt horrible, and wasn't even sure why they could legally assign you to animals. He still wished he could see his friend again, but he knew that it would be a few hundred years before they met again, and by then Kurt was hoping to be part of the Council, which didn't talk to normal citizens on most occasions, and he knew his friend just wanted to be a Winged Guardian. Now in the year 2070, however, Kurt finally felt prepared for what was to become of the rest of his eternity.

He looked over the edge of the large circle in the middle of the city, which was remarkably closer to the ground than usual, and scanned over the colorful scenario to try and guess the life he would be assigned to guard. He watched as other soon-to-be winged angels gathering around the circle, waiting to receive their letters to let the annual ceremony begin. The buildings here were absolutely stunning, made of marble and plated with gold. Of course, Kurt knew it wasn't 'real', none of this was really real, it just appeared that way to him because that was what looked nice to him. That was the strange part about Skyloft; everyone saw everything differently based on their preferences. That was also one of the many things Kurt loved; everything was beautiful, and nothing hurts.

"Kurt." He heard his friend say simply, holding out an envelope to open and scrutinize. Kurt gently took the letter from him, bowing his head gently, trying to stifle the immense excitement rushing through his veins. "You may open it." He answered to Kurt's pleading eyes. He gracefully tore open the envelope and pulled out one of the tri-folded piece of paper inside, then proceeded to unfold it as his friend bowed his head and gently, soundlessly walked away.

_Kurt Hummel:_

_As you may know, today is the day you receive your wings to fly back down to the Earth and remain there for as long as the other being you guard survives. Enclosed in this envelope is a list of rules you must follow, and an Earth Guardian's Certificate that will help you locate the being you have been assigned._

Kurt frowned indignantly as he pulled out the paper labeled 'Rules'. He had never heard of rules being given to anyone.

_Rules_

_You, under no circumstance, are to purposely communicate to your being while it is conscious from 2-15 Earth years of age. You may not communicate with others at all. _

_When you are gifted your wings, you and you alone are also to be given the Sacred Orb of Memories. You are under complete responsibility of it, and you will find out how to use it later. You absolutely __**CANNOT **__tell anyone you have it._

_You and you alone are given these rules, and you are __**NOT **__to share them with anyone else._

_Even as an Earth Guardian, you are only permitted to help your being if it is on the verge of death, you may not help it any other time, and this only applies to you._

_The Sacred Orb of Memories is only to be used to help your being._

_If any of these rules are broken, your being will suffer the consequence. If your being dies and it is your fault, you are going to be returned to Earth as a turtle placed in a zoo, and will remain there for as long as your life lasts, and then when that is over with, you are no longer going to be Blessed, and will go straight to Heaven (For your deeds in your first life). _

Kurt felt himself shiver. What did this mean? The Sacred Orb of Memories? He couldn't help his being? How was this supposed to work? He contorted his face in a grimace, and then proceeded to the Earth Guardian's Certificate.

_Earth Guardian's Certificate_

_Congratulations, you have been gifted with a human boy who goes by the name of 'Blaine Anderson'. He is the religion of Atheist at birth, and his personality is cunning and witty. _

Then, at the bottom, a small piece of paper that was apparently taped on and hand written:

_Kurt, it is very, very important that Blaine doesn't get killed. He is __just like you.__ I entirely protest the idea of you not being able to help him until a dire situation (if you've read the rules already), but it is important for him to learn who he is and defend himself properly when he is a little boy. And if you're wondering what the Sacred Orb of Memories is, since the Council is adamant that you'll figure it out (even though you probably won't), I ought to warn you that it is a very dangerous object. I am not permitted to tell you what it does, but I do know. And to be perfectly honest, I don't know why in the name of Heaven they are giving it to you. Make wise choices, young Kurt. You are a special young man._

The note had no signature, no hint of where it came from. Kurt felt his stomach lurch at the idea. He would be so bored until this boy was fifteen… But forget that, what on Earth was even going on? As his mind started racing, he heard the Council leader, Jack Gabriel, who had been an Earth Guardian at least twenty times before, started to make an announcement from his perch at the front of the crowd on a stage in front of the capitol building.

"Citizens of Skyloft, may I have your attention." He announced sternly, making his eyes travel almost surreptitiously across the eager crowd. The tension from the newer to-be guardians was definitely palpable. "Today is the ceremony, when many Blessed angels shall receive their wings and flutter back down to Earth and guard another being. I'm assuming by now you all have your certificates to help you find your being, if you don't, please come to me at once. And with that, let the Wing Ceremony begin!" He bellowed, smiling. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Kurt couldn't help but remain quiet as his thought train proceeded to move forward. He saw a squat, midget-like winged man walking across the stage next to the council leader. His wings were a dusty, white-speckled gray, similar to Jack's, except Jack's being black. They seemed to converse for a moment as the crowd's cheering slowly died down. The little grey-winged man walked up to the front of the stage.

"Katherine Raymon," He stated in a professional tone. Kurt watched as the woman walked up onto the stage and stood eagerly, smiled slightly faltering on her face, as she was whispered to by the smaller man. She seemed to nod and swallow a lump in her throat. Kurt watched as the smaller man reached into a bag clipped to his waistband, and pulled out a handful of what seemed to be glittering dust. See, Kurt had seen this many times before, so it didn't really bother him when they threw the silver-gold dust over her and wings seemed to painfully sprout out of her back. Kurt watched as stunning pearl-white wings erupted from her back, puncturing her shirt as they did. Kurt never really understood the whole concept of how the wings just magically popped out of their backs, but then again, he couldn't have fathomed he would be _here_ when he died, either.

"Katy Varmon," The announcer announced. Kurt was never sure why they never started at the beginning of the alphabet, or even why they alphabetized by first names.

"Katrina Norman," The man announced again. Kurt felt very unlucky that they started with K's this year. But at least he was 'KU' and not 'KA'.

"Kayla Freeman," He said. Kurt winced. That was the end of the 'KA's'. Kurt took a deep breath as he waited, several minutes passed by that seemed like hours waiting for his name to be called…

"Kuffman John," The announcer said, sounding even more bored than when he started. Kurt braced himself.

"Kurt Hummel." There was kind of a finality, the way he said his name, the way he rolled the 'r' and so gracefully said the letter 'l'. Or maybe Kurt just imagined that out of his fear as he pushed eagerly through the crowd. As he walked up on stage it fleetingly reminded him of a time on Earth when he had been in a musical, except there weren't lights in his face now, and he wasn't acting. The little man walked up to him like he had with all the others, then motioned for Kurt to kneel down because he was too tall for the man to whisper without being heard.

"_Kurt, it's very important you understand this, what you're doing here is extremely vital that it is completed. Stand back up, and then shake my hand. I have the object with me. Stick it in belt pouch, do NOT lose it." _He whispered frantically. Kurt obeyed and as he stood up, and, skilled from his years as an actor, kept his face blank as he shook the hand of the man who was half his size, taking a lightweight, marble sized orb on a chain from him as he did. He casually slipped it into the pocket on his belt pouch, and turned to face the smiling crowd. Kurt was a bit of a loner, so he didn't know very many of the faces staring up at him. He glanced to the side as the little man took the glittery dust from the bag, and without a second thought, tossed it onto Kurt. The impact was something wasn't prepared for. No, it burned horribly, not how he thought it would feel at all. It was so hot it was cold, and his skin seemed to burn his back. He couldn't help letting a whelp escape from his throat as he felt his skin breaking, and he could feel his wings pushing through his back. It was a horrible feeling, but then he felt relived, as if a pain that had been constricting his inside had just been let free by the act of his wings breaking lose. He twitched the tip of his wing, and it felt so strange to have extra limbs on his body. He became consciously aware of everyone staring at him, and even heard whispers and small, faint gasps from the crowd. _What was going on? _He asked himself, turning to look at the Council Leader, who smiled at him, along with the smaller man, who simply nodded in the direction to exit the stage. Kurt did so, and stood with the others who had just received their wings. He made an attempt to move his wing in front of him so he could see what they looked like, but his nerves were still a bit confused. He reached his hand behind him, expecting something horrible to happen, but his wing was there, nonetheless. He pulled it forward through its resentments (it was still stiff from breaking through, apparently) only to be greeted by one of the most unusual sights he had ever seen. Not only were his wing's base color a light yellow color, but were tipped black on the ends, and even Kurt had to admit they were very graceful despite their odd pigmentation. But that wasn't what made Kurt nearly scream when he saw it; he even had to pull his wing closer to make sure he hadn't imagined it. In what almost appeared to be a blood stain, his wing had the pattern of a cursive 'D' messily splattered across it. He tried to use his thumb to wipe it off, but it was inevitably part of the pattern on his feathers.

"What do you suppose it means?" He heard a voice whispering from behind him, which was hardly audible over the rest of the announcements.

"I wish I knew." Kurt said, speaking for the first time that day. Despite not being used, his voice was still soft and fluid like satin floating lost through the air.

"'D' could stand for anything. Death, Doom, Dread…" The man behind him started listing. Kurt quickly shook his head.

"It's got something to do with my being." Kurt said, releasing his wing from his grip, and it nearly smacked the person behind him. "Oh, sorry." He muttered to him.

… It seemed like hours passed before the Great Release was ready to be preformed. Kurt had always thought that it would be easy for him to just take flight, but even just moving his wings was a challenge. The others seemed to be having the same problem, so he assumed he'd be alright. All of them moved around the inner circle, gazing down at the forest below, supposedly a place with wondrous things. Kurt wasn't even sure he would be able to fly if he jumped right now. He tried again to stretch his wings, and this time they obeyed, but stiffly. Kurt watched the other angels utilizing the time to tend to their wings as well.

"Young Earth Guardians," He heard Jack bellowing above the buzz of excitement. "At the sound of the whistle you are to depart down to Earth. Once there, you will not be permitted back until your being perishes, in which you are instructed to bring its soul back with you to Skyloft depending on whether or not the being lived a truthfully not sinful life. If it has, it is not your responsibility to escort it to Hell; the demons will take care of that. If you do, however, bring back your being, you shall be upgraded if you so choose to be a Guardian of Skyloft, or you can proceed to Heaven if you've had enough. May the blessings be with you, Guardians, and perform your job well!" And with that, a quick silence ensued before the sharp high-pitched whistle was sounded. Kurt stood frozen on the spot, watching the others swiftly and gracefully jump into the hole down to Earth, and watched as they completely vanished, for once you are on a Guardian Mission, you are invisible to everyone but your being, and only you can chose if they see you or not. Kurt finally realized he was the only one still in the clouds when he glanced at Jack, who stood now with his eyebrows raised at him. Kurt nodded, and in one fluid movement, tucked his wings to his side as best he could, and dove down towards the surface of the Earth.

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><p>Kurt didn't look back as he plummeted to the Earth at lightning speed. He knew the city was gone, and that by time he got back Jack would probably be gone, too. It was a shame they never got to know each other, Jack was one of the few others that had died young. Kurt attempted to extend his wings, only to throw himself off balance for a second as he twirled around mid-flight. Finally, he slowly brought out his wings again, still several hundred feet from the ground, and attempted to steady himself as he made his body parallel to the ground. He felt the wind ripping at his auburn-golden hair, and upon looking down at himself wondering why he didn't feel the same sensation from his shirt, realized that it simply wasn't there. No, there was <em>nothing <em>there; all he had on was jeans that were cropped at the knees and his belt that held the pouch to store the things he was given at the ceremony.

"_Fuck!" _He shouted, realizing he had lost balance from some wind bump, and was now only about fifty feet from the ground. He desperately tried to stable himself, but to no avail. _What am I worried about, I can't die twice… _

_Bam._

Kurt hadn't realized that he was a solid being once more, that his skin did in fact come into contact with the ground. Thankfully, hitting the ground that hard hadn't hurt him as bad as he thought, but it still left him feeling sore and grouchy. He suddenly dug in his pocket to find the envelope, and opened up the Earth Guardian Certificate. Kurt wasn't sure how a piece of paper would help him, but all of a sudden, the wind violently rushed through, stealing the paper from his hands.

"No!" Kurt shouted, hurrying after it. "I need that!" Kurt said, addressing the wind. Kurt had learned in his time at the Blessed Heaven that the wind was, in fact, controlled by another angelic being. Kurt tried running, but realized quickly that he was far too slow to keep up. He feebly extended his wings and desperately flapped them up and down, but only managed to stir of the wind more as he ran after the paper. Finally, mimicking something he had once seen in a movie, jumped up with all he had and pushed down as hard as he could with his wings, and this time he was propelled upward. He kept doing this until he was at the same height as the paper, then proceeded to glide after it, trying as hard as he could to catch up. Every time he would get close enough to snatch it, the wind would seem to push the paper farther away. Then it dawned on Kurt; it was helping him find Blaine. This was the first time since he first read the certificate he had thought of him, a baby boy, Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Kurt couldn't help his excitement as he said it out loud.

"Blaine… Blaine Anderson… Blaine! Blaine Blaine Blaine, Oh Blaine~" Kurt started almost singing the name out of pure glee, happy to have the name leaving his lips with such grace. "Kurt, Kurt and Blaine, Blaine and Kurt! Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel, together as blessed spirits!" He shouted at the top of his lungs to nobody in particular. It felt good to be able to just talk without anyone hearing you for once. Kurt smiled as he followed the paper, wondering what the baby boy might look like. "He's the son I never had, Blaine Anderson-"And just like that, his excitement went to its peak when the paper started falling from the sky, drifting alone on the forgotten breeze as if it hadn't just flown at an outrageous speed away from him. Blaine was right below him! Kurt quickly dived down and grabbed the paper, following its path to the sidewalk below. Kurt was facing the street, but quickly turned around, realizing he was behind him. Kurt was not pleased by the sight at all, not even a little glimmer of hope remained now. The house was just a plain run-down shack, the paneling peeling off and almost seeming to rot. Kurt took a step forward, but his attempt to move was paused when he smelled _smoke_. Not cigarette smoke, wood smoke, like something was on fire. Kurt quickly rushed inside the house (not bothering with the door, for whatever reason he simply just willed himself through the wall), to be greeted by a mother, poor but kind looking, was attempting to beat down a kitchen fire- the food burnt, the stove ablaze. The woman had very dark brown curly long hair, her eyes a blazing green color that reflected the fire prettily. Kurt didn't know what to do. The he remembered; _You may not help any other beings_.

Alright, so he couldn't help this woman, but where was her son? Was this the right house? Kurt didn't have the moral to let it burn down. He sincerely hoped the woman could put of the fire with the blanket she was beating it with, or at least get out alive (Which she could, the fire just started). Kurt quickly scoured the whole house, running as fast as he could through each old and rotting room, until he found a room with a broken wooden crib in it. Despite the fiasco in the other room, Kurt calmly approached the baby, who was squirming uncomfortably in his crib, as if it knew something was wrong. Kurt glanced behind him, realizing the fire was growing, and that the woman had not put it out. Kurt heard a sudden scream, and knew dreadfully in the pit of his stomach the woman had caught fire in attempt to prevent this house, probably all they had, from burning down. Kurt waited for several painful seconds until he heard the screaming cease, leaving nothing but the roar of a fire and a now crying baby to fill his empty ears. Kurt quickly walked up to the edge of the crib, and little Blaine glared up at him. _He can see me_. Kurt frowned for a minute, the situation horribly inconvenient, then felt a hot tear strolling down his cheek. This was a dire, life-or-death situation, was it not? Blaine would die if he left him.

"Blaine." Kurt said simply, and the baby looked up at him, seemingly startled that the strange man knew his name. _But he's just a baby; he doesn't know his name anyway._

Kurt heard the fire crackle closer, then swiftly reached down his arms to the tiny, probably one month old child, and slid his arms under him. To his surprise, he didn't slip through him as if he were a ghost, but was instead lifted gently up into Kurt's arms. Kurt marveled at the little baby, smiling at him, but quickly remembered the scenario; it was time to move, now.

Kurt turned to the door, which was obviously closed, and he realized he couldn't take a mortal through a solid wall, it didn't work like that. He instead turned to the only window in the room, which luckily led outside, and holding Blaine in one arm, he tried to unlock the window to get through. He quickly found that his fingers only slipped through the lock as if his finer wasn't there, so opening it was out of the question. Wait, so he could only touch people, was that it? Kurt frowned deeply, and then returned Blaine quickly to his crib to try and unlock the window as the fire roared tauntingly behind him. He could touch the window this time, and unlocked it swiftly, throwing open the glass and punching out the screen. _I must only be able to touch one thing at a time._ Kurt picked up Blaine, and then stepped up with difficulty to the windowsill. Kurt looked down, and although they weren't that far from the ground, there was a sticker bush right below the window. _Okay, who the hell plants a sticker bush right below the only fire escape in the room…? _

There was only on solution; Fly. Kurt jumped out the window, desperately flapping his wings for the sake of Blaine's life, and just managed to get over the sticker bush and turn to land on his back before hitting the ground. Blaine was safe, that was all that counts, even if it felt like Kurt had just popped his wing out of socket. He stared up at a horrible scene, the house was definitely on fire and the flames leapt above the roof. Kurt faintly heard a fire truck in the distance; good, help would come. But what about Blaine? What should he do with the warm body in his arms? Leave him for the firemen to pick up? No, Kurt couldn't do that, could he? Did Blaine have any other relatives? Oh, if only Kurt knew… It only took some miniscule information about Blaine to save him from the fate that seemed to be left in Kurt's hands. Kurt sat up, cradling the now screaming baby in his arms. Kurt pulled out the certificate again, hoping for some sort of answer, but the wind was very still and hot from the fire. He stuffed it back in his pocket. _Wait… _ Kurt fumbled around in his pocket for a second, and retrieved the Sacred Orb of Memories, which glistened with a beautiful coal-black color, almost as if it was a cloudy day inside. It was very cold to the touch, even though it had been in his belt pouch right next to his skin. He fumbled around with the gold chain for a minute before sparking an idea.

"Not that you'd know, but I want to see if I put this around your neck if I'll be able to view your memories." Kurt said to the baby, who, as expected, had no response. Kurt unhooked the chain, and supporting Blaine's head with the crook of his knee, clipped it around him. The orb seemed to flicker a faint shade of caramel brown. Nothing happened.

"Maybe not…" Kurt muttered. Blaine still seemed to not really know what was going on. Kurt picked up the orb around the baby's neck, and stared into the creamy brown color, expecting some sort of help to come forth. And then there was that feeling, a feeling of deep regret, a feeling that Kurt had only experienced when he was on Earth, and then a sharp burn on his wing, right where the cursive 'D' was etched in his wing design. Kurt, for the life of him, couldn't let go of the orb, and suddenly felt a pulling sensation, as if being pulled towards the tiny brown sphere he held. And suddenly, with a flash of turquoise and hazel, he felt one last jerk from the orb, and all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I apologize, I know Blaine isn't exactly badboy!Blaine yet, but that comes up later D: Usually the story is told from the point of view of the good guy, but for all intents and purposes, I had to write this chapter otherwise. I apologize for that, but happy reading :D! _

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The sun was falling gloomily on the horizon as young Blaine Anderson sat in the back of an alley, blood coating his head once more. He had been in many, many fights prior, but never one quite as bad as this, never one that had forced him not only to flee, but to hide from his attackers in an _alley_. One that caused him so much physical pain he couldn't stand, one that made him feel dizzy from loss of blood. He felt around his face, checking to see if all his piercings were there, if they had been ripped out- His three ear piercings, his eyebrow piercing, and his nose piercing- No, they were all there. He inhaled deeply. They had been trying to rob him and he knew it. His hand flew down to his neck, where they had been trying to slit it, and found a scratch right across the black dragon tattoo he had put there when he was fourteen. He briefly wondered if he could fix it, maybe have it redone, but he continued inspecting, even though his vision was still fading out. His grey-black hoodie had been ripped, parts of the red fleece lining pulled out, and his black skin-tight jeans had been ripped, as well. He saw a cut where they had been ripped. He took a deep breath. All they had taken was his pocket knife, which was imbedded in the shoulder of one of the men, so it was for good use. Blaine leaned his head back against the wall, simply inhaling the peace that had come across him. And then he remembered it; what they had been _trying_ to steal, the small marble around his neck on a gold chain, the only thing his mother had left him before she died. He unzipped his hoodie, then pulled the long gold chain out of his shirt. He inspected the orb at the end, which, like always when he was in danger, swirled a dangerous bright blue mixed with a chestnut hazel. It was always warm to the touch, no matter what temperature it was outside or where he had left it. Always warm, always there, and always comforting him when he needed it. That, perhaps, was why he always wore it. It seemed to be a sort of good luck charm. But not today, not today when he had been beaten so brutally he couldn't bear to move.

"Sometimes I wish you'd do more than just _swirl_ your colors around when I'm hurt, you know?" Blaine asked absently, realizing he was talking to a piece of jewelry. "Shit, I've gone crazy now." He let the orb drop back to his chest, where the warmth was welcome on his quickly cooling heart. He could feel it beating, yes, he was alive, but the blood was quickly leaving him, making his skin turn cold. "What… What a lovely way to spend my fifteenth birthday…" Blaine whispered to nobody. His head lolled to the side, and all he could feel was pain. He wasn't sure if the orb was getting warmer, or perhaps he was getting colder.

"_Blaine…" _

Blaine blinked hard. He had heard someone whisper his name, but not just anybody. He couldn't put a face to the soft, silky voice he had heard, but he still felt a sense of nostalgia just hearing it.

"_Anderson…"_

Blaine shook his head again, and pronounced in no more than a whisper: "Who are you…?"

"_Hold it…"_

"Hold what…?"

"_You know what."_

Blaine heaved a sigh with what little breath he had, and reached his hand up to the orb dangling around his neck, which had become white hot. _I'm so cold…_

"_Close your eyes."_

Blaine obeyed the voice, and suddenly the orb became ice cold, and Blaine, on instinct, dropped it back to his chest protected by his shirt. His eyes fluttered open briefly, but just briefly enough to view the shadow of a man in front of him, before they fluttered closed again, and Blaine was out cold.

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><p>His dream was vivid and bright. He couldn't make sense of it in his unconscious state, but something was for sure; He hurt. He was stuck in an old, rotted bedroom, the only light coming from the one window in the room. He heard screams from outside, and a harsh fire crackling loudly. He made for the door, but the handle was so hot it was cold, and burned Blaine's skin upon contact. He knew this was a fire, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Just a few minutes ago he had been running from robbers…<p>

"_Blaine." _

It was that voice again. He looked around the room, but nothing was there…

"_Maybe not…" _

Blaine flinched. It all seemed so familiar, like some lost memory. The fire, the window, the room…

"_Are you okay?"_

And like that, Blaine was jolted back to consciousness. The voice, he _did_ remember it. He knew it. His eyes opened with a jolt, and the face that was staring at him held an expression of terror. His auburn-golden hair was one of the most beautiful things Blaine had ever seen, and his eyes were the same stunning blue of the orb. Wait, were those _wings…?_

"Oh God…" The other man said, and then without a 'goodbye' or 'farewell', he just vanished. Boom, gone.

"Wait!" Blaine tried shouting, but to no avail. Whoever he was, he was gone. Blaine looked down for the necklace, but it was no longer around his neck. Instead, it laid on the cement ground, the chain snapped, the orb broken open and black.

* * *

><p>Blaine's mind was a complete blur as he walked back to his house. See, the interesting thing about Blaine was that he had experienced so many phenomenons he just learned to accept them as they happened. But this had never happened before. He clutched the orb he held in his pocket, not sure what to make of the whole thing. Had he become so delirious that…? No, his scars couldn't magically heal like that. Yes, they usually healed faster than he expected, but never just vanished within the space of an hour (at least he assumed it had only been an hour, the sky was dark, but the moon hadn't risen). Blaine couldn't compute anything right now, so he tried to forget about it and focus on other things. Where were the thugs right now? Were they still after him? Was his gang nearby? Did they come to his rescue? Maybe, just maybe, Antonio, his friend, had come along… But what were the odds of that? Wasn't he in the hospital, far, far away from Ohio right now? What were the odds of anything right now?<p>

Blaine tried not to think of it.

Upon approaching his foster parent's home, he simply stopped in front of the small house. It was nice, and just the right size for three people. Of course, Blaine didn't care for it, because it was only temporary. These people were being _paid _to _pretend_ to love him, and it sickened him to the core. He hated how they were always so sweet and nice, and they didn't even know him…

As Blaine trudged through the living room to his temporary bedroom, he heard a call from the kitchen.

"Blaine, honey, is that you?" He heard Teresa, his foster mother for now, calling.

"No, it's a fucking _robber_." He called back, voice gruff and angry. He stormed down the hallway to 'his' room.

"Blaine Anderson! You get out here right now!" She called, causing Blaine to rebel and sit down on the bed he was given.

"Make me, bitch…" He muttered, laughing to himself. He liked how they had absolutely no power over him. That was the only thing he liked about all this; he got to do what he wanted, and nobody could stand in his way without it being considered 'abuse'. After all, he had so many scars, all he had to do was report them as a beating from these people and they would probably be thrown in jail. He had them by the balls, both men and women.

"Blaine, what's the matter? You're grumpier than usual." She said, appearing at his doorway. She was a little over twenty-five, so she was young and inexperienced, and absolutely _stunningly_ gorgeous. Most boys like Blaine would fancy a woman like her, but Blaine didn't fancy any women at all. He always knew he was gay, but to avoid being beaten even further than he already was for being a thief, drug dealer, and whatever other trouble he got into all the time, he decided to stay in the closet. Blaine had all the ladies at his feet, but he had never dated- or even kissed- any of them. Blaine had a feeling his friends already knew he was gay, but they never called him out for it, thankfully, even though he would deny it.

"I'm hungry, when's dinner?" He asked in a commanding tone.

"I… I haven't been to the store, are eggs okay?" She asked nervously, trying to see behind the prison-security level walls Blaine had built around him.

"Put them between some bread and add cheese, that'll be fine. Go away." He commanded gruffly, turning his face away from her.

"You got in another fight…? What happened? Usually you're oddly ecstatic when you come home from a fight…"

"Get the hell out before I actually call the cops this time." He said, setting his hazel-green eyes ablaze on her ocean-blue ones. She shrugged and backed away, defeated. Blaine knew she couldn't wait to get rid of him. He moved from his sitting position and laid down on his bed, pulling the small orb from his pocket again, looking at it. Blaine knew it was stupid, but sometimes talking to it had helped him get through his struggles. He sometimes felt it actually _listened_ to him and _cared _about him, whereas everyone else couldn't give a shit. But that was over now, the only thing he had left of his mother was broken, shattered, gone.

"I'm going to miss you…" He said, whispering. Blaine never cried, not once, and he wasn't going to now, it just felt like some sort of horrible finality that struck him painfully in the chest. It was all over. All the secrets he had told it, and now they were gone. Talking to it didn't feel the same right now, now that it was broken, now that it no longer glowed, or seemed to recognize him. It was just gone; it was ice cold, even though it had been in his pocket all this time. Then Blaine shook his head, feeling stupid. It was just a stupid necklace, just some sort of object that he substituted for his mother. He couldn't have gone on thinking that much longer anyways. His luck in fight wasn't because of it; it was because he was strong.

Right?

And all it took was that fleeting moment of doubt to make Blaine angry with himself. He couldn't help it, so he threw the already broken jewel across the room, where it hit the wall, but didn't break anymore than it already had. Blaine was even more furious at this. _How is it that when I fucking drop it, it breaks, and then I beam it at something and it doesn't even crack?_

"Blaine, what are you doing in there?" He heard Teresa calling at him. He glared over at the doorway when she appeared. "Are you throwing things again? She asked, spatula covered in grease in her hand.

"Fuck you." He said simply, and she walked into the room and sat down on his bed next to him. "Go away."

"What did you throw?" She asked, concerned. "I just want to know so I can clean it up."

"Go ahead, it's right over there in the corner." He mumbled, absently waving his hand in that general direction. She looked over in the corner.

"You… You broke your necklace…?" She said, clearly confused.

"Great, you figured it out. Now do me a favor and leave me alone." And without another word, she got up and stormed her way silently back out of the room and into the kitchen. Blaine closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure, trying to rest for just a few minutes as time seemed to blur together, and when he opened his eyes it was because Teresa had placed a plate of warm food on his stomach, which was an egg-and-cheese sandwich. Blaine glanced his tired eyes up just to see her leaving, but he wasn't going to eat right now. He absolutely couldn't, he was overwhelmed an inevitably tired. So, not really caring much for the act of kindness, he dropped the plate on the floor (which shattered the plate, as Blaine had wanted it to). He could practically hear Teresa sigh from the other room as he rolled over and feigned sleep as she came in to clean up the mess.

"I suppose that means you're not hungry." She said simply, knowing Blaine was faking sleep.

"Nope." He responded sarcastically.

"Blaine…" She said, worriedly. "… Alright, if you just want to sleep, that's fine…"

And then she left.

And that's what Blaine did.

* * *

><p>It was well past midnight when the mysterious shadow entered Blaine's house. Although Blaine wasn't aware, dead-silent footsteps approached into his room, and stood next to his bed.<p>

"_Blaine?" _It whispered, but not more than a whisper. Blaine jerked in his sleep. _That voice again…_

"_Blaine, wake up…"_ It called beckoningly.

"… Who are…?" Blaine muttered, his eyes still glued shut even as he felt he was slowly slipping into consciousness.

"_How old are you, Blaine?"_ It asked, slightly concerned.

"Fif… Fifteen…" He answered, slightly unsure, as consciousness tugged on him.

"_Hehe! I knew it!" _The silken voice seemed to squeal with excitement. Perhaps that was what bolted Blaine fully awake.

"What the fuck-?" Blaine started as he bolted upright, but found a silky-smooth hand instantly clasped over his mouth.

"That's great Blaine, really, that means you won't have to… Oh God, can you even see me? Can you just hear me? Tell me what's going through your head right now." The other _thing_ seemed to ask. It was a strange creature to look at; it looked like a man with the wings of a warbler bird (enlarged, of course) with a faint cursive 'D' printed in a faint pinkish color on one of his wings. His hair was like gold tinsel with a hint of brown, and his whole body seemed to emit a faint light that illuminated his powerful multi-colored blue eyes. The creature gracefully removed its hand from Blaine's mouth and smiled.

"I hate these fucking dreams, they keep getting more and more real and I'm sick of it." Blaine replied simply, Laying back down on his bed and shutting his eyes.

"No no no, don't do that- Wait, Blaine-"

"I'm done talking to stupid imaginary creatures in my dreams, I'm tired of you calling my name every time I fall asleep, and I'm tired of you fucking _screaming_. I don't know who you are, but I want you to shut the hell up." Blaine said, plugging his ears with his hands, as if expecting the screaming to come any second now.

"You… You've definitely grown up…" The creature replied to him. Blaine didn't see the soft, glittering tear fall from the other man's face. "Open your eyes, Blaine, please. Look at me for a second."

"No."

"Blaine…"

"Say my name one more time, I will imagine a shotgun in my hands and I will shoot you with it. I don't get it, this is my dream, why won't you just _shut up and go away_…?" Blaine groaned. Blaine heard the other thing sigh.

"Because maybe you're not dreaming."

And that was that, Blaine sat up and looked the man square in the eyes.

"Give me _one_ good explanation for all this then. Hmm? What are you supposed to be, a robber in a Halloween costume, come to tell me to slit my throat, because I'm just dreaming? Or, or, maybe you're an angel, and you're here to tell me my parents are waiting for me in heaven? Nice try, I'm not buying it." Blaine answered furiously.

"Kurt." He said, holding out its hand.

"Oh, so now you're calling me Kurt-"

"No, _I'm_ Kurt, pardon." He said, smiling warmly. Blaine squinted hard at him.

"Congratulations." Blaine said, not taking his hand.

"You still think you're dreaming?"

"Either that or I learned how to smoke weed while sleeping." Blaine answered, shrugging.

"W… What?" Kurt asked, expression full of concern.

"Get out. Please. Get out of this house, and get out of my sight." Blaine said sternly. Most of the time this worked on everybody, the glare, the posture, the eyes; but it had no affect on Kurt. It made his eyes sadden a little, which strangely made Blaine's heart twitch, but he held his ground. And then, after what felt like an eternity of staring into each other's eyes…

"You're so pretty when you're angry."

"Fuck you."

"Gladly." Kurt said, winking. Blaine suddenly felt hot on the inside, and it wasn't because it was summer. "No, sorry," Kurt suddenly corrected, frowning. "I don't think I'm supposed to do that. Never mind. So you're a badass now?" Kurt asked, now sitting on Blaine's bed, looking down at him, because even when sitting the other man was taller than him. He kept his _wings_ folded tightly against his body, so as not to touch Blaine with them on accident.

"Who the hell are you?" Blaine asked, perplexed.

"Not a burglar and not a figment of your imagination." Kurt answered, suddenly extending his wings, then pulling them forward beside him, tickling Blaine's shirted chest with the feather tips.

"_The hell?" _Blaine whispered, bringing up his hand to thread the feather through his fingers.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't come sooner… Strict rules says I couldn't, who the hell knows why. Blaine, you're-" But before Kurt was finished, another voice broke in, with a sharp knock to his door-

"Blaine, who the heck are you talking to?" He heard Teresa ask in a fierce tone.

"_Shit!"_ Kurt screeched, then _poof_, just like that, vanished into nothing.

"Blaine, seriously?" Teresa said, coming through the door now. Upon seeing Blaine sitting up, alone in his bed, she frowned. "You weren't, like, masturbating or something, were you?" She asked, looking embarrassed.

"No, bitch, I don't do that shit to myself." Blaine said angrily, and then fell back down on his bed. "It was a bad dream, stop bothering me." Blaine answered, rolling away from her. She, seemingly enraged, slammed Blaine's door shut, and Blaine heard her walk down the hallways back to her room. "…_Kurt? She's gone."_ Blaine whispered, careful not to make his voice rise. Nothing happened. "Fine, be that way." Blaine stated sternly, then shut his eyes to go back to sleep.

Little did he know the young angel was just outside his window, perched in a tree and looking in to watch him sleep.

And all Kurt kept thinking as he sat there all night was, "_Why was I made to guard the one boy I always wanted in high school, but never had the chance to get?"_

* * *

><p><em>AN: By the way, would you guys prefer for this to be a story based on their friendship or a story based more on their romance? I've kind of left it open to both options, so please review if you'd like to add input before I start the next chapter :)_

_Also, Blaine is just coping with the embarrassment when he says he doesn't masturbate. That's all I'll say on the matter ;) _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So, yes, here is the third chapter, Yu-Oka :D The reason it might seem splotchy is because I'm trying to push as much story line into this chapter as I can, because I won't be able to finish the next chapter by the deadline and I really, really don't want to lose because of lack of story line development (Which really, I have the whole story planned out already, so there IS a story line, and in my opinion it's a bit of an emotional roller-coaster for both Blaine and Kurt, but I foresee a happy ending. I mean, I hope. I might change my mind ^^;). And don't worry, future chapters will contain more in-depth parts of Blaine's average school day. I had to kind of cut it short because I have a personal boundry of 10,000 words per chapter. To me, excessive amounts of words makes it boring. Sorry D: _

_Anyways, happy reading!_

_**EDIT: I just now noticed this because I didn't do enough research on Dalton, but Dalton is actually located in Westerville, Ohio, not Lima. Therefore, if Blaine lived in Elida, it would take him two hours to get to school in the morning. So, if you don't mind, because I'm an idiot, I'm switching the locations of Dalton and McKinley. McKinley will now be referred to as a school in Westerville, whereas Dalton is the new official school of Lima. Sorry for that ^^;**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Blaine had managed to convince himself it had all been one big hallucination, that there was no winged boy who called himself Kurt, that there were no such thing as angels or fantasy creatures with wings. But it had been bothering him all weekend. The boy hadn't bothered to show himself after Friday night, and it made Blaine furious, pacing his floor from dawn til' dusk, refusing to be with anyone, waiting for him to return. But he _didn't_, so he probably _wouldn't._

Blaine was like every other person, he absolutely hated Mondays. High school was torture, even if he could take care of himself. He was known for beating the living shit out of anyone who looked at him funny, or accepting any challenges from his fellow bullies, and always won.

People avoided him a lot, and he was alone.

Blaine didn't really have many friends. Wait, scratch that; he didn't have _any_ friends. Everyone was afraid of him. But he liked it that way, supposedly.

Blaine stumbled out of his bedroom, eyes clearly showing sleep deprivation from tossing and turning the night before, and sat at the kitchen table, waiting to be fed. Teresa was moving around the kitchen, attempting to cook eggs, sausage, and pancakes at the same time. She wasn't exactly the greatest cook, or the most experienced, so it posed a problem trying to cook a multitude of things at once.

"_You know, you could help her."_ Blaine heard someone whisper from nowhere in particular, but it felt like it was announced right in his ear.

"What the hell?" He said, standing up, and looking around. Teresa turned and frowned at him, practically scoffing at his revelation of insanity.

"Blaine, are you feeling alright? Do you need to go to the doctor?" She asked gently, still trying to cook.

"No, I'm fine, probably too much drugs." Blaine joked, although only he knew he was joking. He did do drugs, yes, but he hadn't done anything this weekend that could cause hallucinations.

"Blaine Anderson, you sit down!" She said, now furious after his remark. He turned up a grin before sitting back down. Teresa dropped a steaming hot egg on the floor while trying to flip it onto a platter. Blaine heard he curse under her breath, but made no attempt to point her out on it right now. Obviously that _thing_ was in the room, and it wanted to talk to him.

"You know what's funny?" He announced, watching Teresa hurriedly clean up the mess of partially-cooked egg off the floor.

"No, I don't. Please inform me." She said sarcastically under her breath as well.

"How unsecure this house is. You know, if I didn't live here I could probably break in just by kicking the door." He said, looking around, still looking for that boy.

"What are you implying?" She said, stronger now, as she continued to cook breakfast.

"I'm implying that I think there's someone in here. And they aren't friendly." He said, looking at the ceiling, as if listening for someone to be crawling in the attic. Teresa frowned further.

"_What makes you think I'm not friendly?" _The voice replied to his remark, causing Blaine, again, to jump out of his seat.

"I have to go to the bathroom." He said abruptly, leaving the table and Teresa cooking breakfast.

He quickly darted down the picture-covered hallway, glancing at each of the old men and women decorating the walls as he rushed by. He finally reached the end of the hallway where the bathroom was located. After promptly rushing in and slamming the door behind him, he quickly fumbled the lock to assure that he was alone.

"Alright, what the hell do you want from me?" He asked in a hurried whisper.

"_Want?"_ The voice asked. Blaine hadn't expected it to happen. With a flash of simple rainbow-like colors and a tinge of white, the young boy, glowing wings and all, materialized sitting cross-legged on the toilet. "I wouldn't say I _want_ anything from you." He said, glancing his innocent blue eyes up at Blaine. The boy was now wearing a pure white t-shirt with what appeared to be a caramel-colored overcoat, which somehow matched the boy perfectly.

"Then why are you here and what are you trying to do to me?" Blaine asked in utter frustration.

"I'm here because I'm allowed to be. Let me ask _you _something, Blaine. Is that how you treat everyone else?" The boy asked, flashing his almost childlike glare at Blaine, then back at the door, implying he was talking about Teresa. It seemed almost playful if anything. Blaine pursed his lips to show he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't ashamed of treating people horridly, but something about those eyes and that adorable- Was that the right word?- face made it almost impossible to admit without sounding like a pathetic, scolded puppy dog.

"Blaine?" Teresa shouted, now storming down the hall. "Your breakfast is ready, come eat." She said, obviously still angry, whether it is at the food or at Blaine being unclear.

"Mind if I join you?" Kurt asked, raising a slim, perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Blaine finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel." Kurt answered, now standing up and outstretching his hand once more for Blaine to shake. Blaine, again, refused to take his hand.

"No, I mean where do you come from, define yourself." Blaine said, trying to sound more educated than he cared for.

"I come from Lima, Ohio. I died at the age of eighteen, and attended McKinley High School before my murder." Kurt answered matter-of-factly. Blaine slightly gawked before he caught himself and regained his composure.

"Murder…" He murmured, not exactly questioning, but questioning enough for Kurt to provide an explanation.

"Bullies. The killed me by pointing a gun to my head." Kurt looked away, shaking his head, his innocent blue eyes filled with nothing but severe pain and sorrow. "It hurt. It really did. Not just the bullet, but the emotional pain as well."

"Why did they bully you?" Blaine asked, glaring gruffly at Kurt. Kurt knew it wasn't a defensive look, but rather one of not much interest.

"Because I was a homosexual." Kurt answered simply, glancing up at Blaine, almost as if asking for forgiveness. But Blaine didn't even know what that meant. Homosexual?

"What's that mean?" Blaine asked, furrowing his brow, not sure whether it was good or bad. Kurt just shook his head, almost as if pitying Blaine. Or maybe it was self pity, it was hard for Blaine to tell. This was probably the most in depth conversation he'd had all year, now that Blaine thought of it.

"Anyways," Kurt continued, breaking Blaine's train of thought, "Care if I join you for breakfast?" Kurt asked, now smiling, hiding the tears he was previously experiencing.

"Whatever." Blaine said. For some reason he didn't want to be mad at the boy, but at the same time he wanted to still have _some_ privacy. He could practically feel Kurt frown at his impoliteness, but ignored the feeling and proceeded to open the bathroom door and walk out to the table. He half expected for the boy to just appear at the table rather than follow behind him, but he didn't. Teresa had apparently gone into the living room to relax, because the pots and pans were still littering the kitchen sink and she was gone. Blaine sat down in front of the plate of food she had prepared, and then looked up at Kurt who was smiling warmly down at him. Blaine watched as he took one of the sausages off of his plate, and then very gently put it between his teeth, almost as if examining it. Finally, he bit down, but after chewing for a couple seconds, he slowed his chewing to a stop, then put the sausage back on Blaine's plate. He apparently swallowed what he was chewing, then sat down in the chair across from Blaine, folding his hand over the table and simply just sitting there.

"Your keeper could use a little help in the kitchen. " Kurt commented casually. Blaine smirked and nodded vaguely. Blaine glanced behind him briefly before asking in an undertone;

"Can she hear you or see you or anything, or is it just me?"

"Nope. Watch." Kurt said, winking. "HEY, YOU! HEY!" He shouted very loudly. Blaine was surprised how his voice changed from higher pitched and melodic to gruff and slightly raspy when he shouted. Well, his voice remained the same pitch, but Blaine didn't mind. No answer came from the other room. Kurt smiled. "Nope, just you."

"That's bullshit. Then why do you keep disappearing whenever someone else walks into the room?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Because it's part of human nature to acknowledge everyone in the room when you speak. If you address me when nobody else can see me, you'd look insane. We can't have that, can we?" Kurt replied, smiling sadly. Blaine understood. He probably had already convinced Teresa he was going insane, he didn't need to fuel that any more than he already had. "Anyways," Kurt continued, "Since you pretty much have been refusing to answer me and I don't want to get you busted for talking to 'nobody', I think I'll just sit here in silence. Continue." Kurt said, motioning at Blaine's untouched breakfast. Blaine frowned.

"I don't feel comfortable eating in front of you." He blurted out before he could stop himself. Blaine didn't want the other boy knowing that, but he really, _really _didn't want him to see him eat for some reason. Obviously he had horrible table manners, but why should he care? The other boy shrugged anyways, and in the same flash of light that had occurred earlier, vanished. Blaine heard footsteps behind him, and upon turning around he saw Teresa. That made Blaine wonder if Kurt had disappeared on command or if it was because Teresa was approaching.

"Blaine, hurry up, you only have fifteen minutes until the bus comes, and I'm not driving you to school." She said as she walked over to the kitchen sink to wet a rag and begin washing the counter off, leaving the dishes in the sink. Blaine was still mad at her for her decision to not let him drive. He was perfectly of age to receive a license, but because she didn't trust him he wasn't allowed to drive. That, and Teresa wasn't exactly rich, so she couldn't afford to send him to Drivers Ed or any similar program. Also, the insurance... Okay, Blaine could see why he wasn't allowed to drive, but it still made him mad. He gallantly strolled down the hallway and turned left into his room without bothering to eat his breakfast. He couldn't help but laugh at the misery he put Teresa through. After all she did to make him breakfast this morning, he didn't even eat. He could practically hear the lecture as he walked in and closed his door- and there he was, sitting on his bed. That _boy._

"Seriously?" Kurt said, raising his eyebrow. "I know it was horrible, but the least you could have done was eat more than a bite of the sausage."

"I didn't eat that, you did." Blaine muttered as he rolled his eyes. He walked over to his closet and grabbed a pair of baggy jeans and a black shirt.

"Just for a fun fact, did you know everything I eat goes into your stomach? Let me just tell you this, we're connected at our spirits, Blaine. When you're hungry, I'm hungry, when you're pissed, I'm pissed, and although we are two completely different people with different opinions, if you see something you like, I like it too. And vice versa, on some occasions." Kurt said, shrugging. He glanced at the outfit Blaine had picked out. "Oh God, please tell me you are _not _wearing that. That is one of the most hideous outfits I've seen since Lady Gaga's meat dress." Kurt said, rolling his eyes. Blaine scowled deeply at Kurt.

"Who the hell is Lady GaGa?" He asked, tone full of absurdity.

"Sorry, last generation. I forgot, it's been awhile since I've been on this planet." Kurt said, shrugging, causing his wings to lift up. Blaine threw the outfit on the bed beside Kurt.

"Alright, that's great. What's that?" Blaine asked, noticing the faint cursive D painted on the angel's wings for the second time, and confused as to what it meant, for it somehow seemed vaguely familiar to him. The blue eyes flickered to it, then flashed a slight confused glance, then returned the gaze to Blaine.

"I haven't figured it out yet. I haven't exactly had time. The last fifteen years… It's been a blur of blackness." Kurt said, shrugging again. "I'm sure it's nothing important, and if it is, well, we'll figure it out."

"I need to get dressed." Blaine stated as if he weren't listening to Kurt speaking. Kurt just raised his eyebrow and shrugged slightly as if to say, 'So?'. Blaine frowned slightly before shrugging and removing his nightshirt, leaning down, and grabbing the black shirt he had thrown on the bed next to the other boy. Kurt looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed.

"What?" Blaine asked, perplexed by the faint pink blush appearing on the glowing boy's features.

"Nothing, continue." Kurt answered, turning away further. Blaine blinked then frowned hard. Yes, the boy was blushing, he wasn't just imagining it. Blaine rolled his eyes, then replaced his nightshirt with the black shirt he had laid out.

"If you have a problem, do one of your little vanishing acts." Blaine said, starting to remove his pants. The other boy glanced nervously behind him.

"Sorry, would you rather I stare right at you when you change? And no, I'm not going to 'vanish', there's no point in me vanishing for a few seconds then coming back. And I don't 'vanish', anyways. I just choose to become invisible to you. I'm always here, you just don't see me." Kurt replied starkly before flipping his head back the other way, causing what appeared to be sparkles to fall from his hair. By now Blaine had dressed anyways, so he chose to ignore the creepy comment. Always watching him?

"So technically, you've probably seen me naked before. Why the hell are you so embarrassed to see me change clothes?" Blaine said, now going over to his closet and pulling out what appeared to be a chain. Kurt observed as he hooked it around his belt loops.

"No, Blaine, that's just gross." Kurt replied, frowning. "Just because I'm essentially part of you doesn't mean I have to be right next to you all the time. By the way," Kurt started, getting off the bed as Blaine opened his bedroom door and started storming out, Kurt following close behind, "You really should shower more than once every few days, you start smelling-" Blaine interrupted him by kicking his leg backwards, causing Kurt to fall to the floor with a loud _thump_ that was unheard by everyone but him. He continued walking down the hallway, hearing a grunt from behind, then upon reaching the front door he swiveled around to see Kurt standing there.

"I need my backpack." He said absently, almost as if he were talking to himself, then, ignoring Kurt, walked to the living room at the left where he saw Teresa taking a nap on the couch, the small portable T.V. turned on to the sports channel. He walked around the couch and picked up a black one-strap over-the-shoulder backpack, zipped up the zipper, flung it over his back, then trotted back to the front door where Kurt was waiting, blocking the exit. Blaine glanced quickly over his shoulder.

"Move." He pronounced softly, but forcefully. Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Tell her you're leaving. Or I will." Kurt said, smiling. Blaine frowned and shook his head.

"Go ahead, tell her then. But she isn't going to hear you."

"Oh, that's not what I had in mind." Kurt said, leaving his post at the front door, walking over to the pots and pans that littered the sink from this morning and the night before. Kurt put a slender, trained hand on one of the pots on the bottom of the stack. He glanced over at Blaine, smirking knowingly, and Blaine let out a sigh. As much as he didn't care if the dishes fell from the sink and broke, he didn't want to take blame for something he didn't actually do.

"Hey, I'm leaving for school." Blaine shouted into the living room, causing Teresa to abruptly jump up, and, upon seeing Blaine, checked her pocket as if to see if her wallet was still there, which it was, so she relaxed. She looked up at Blaine, confused, and Blaine smiled sarcastically and waved a slightly giddy wave before turning away and rolling his eyes, then opening the front door. Although he slammed the door behind him before Kurt could follow, somehow the boy managed to walk through the closed door anyways. As Blaine started off down the street to the bus stop, he heard light footsteps racing up to him.

"Hey, have I ever told you how dumpy this town is? No offense, of course." Kurt said as they walked. Blaine shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulder, but didn't answer. "Well, it is. By the way, why are you so mean to your... Is she your step-mom? Did your dad get remarried? Or did she adopt you?" Blaine glared menacingly in Kurt's direction. Kurt held up both his hands as if to say 'sorry', but Blaine just scoffed at him.

"I never had a dad. And If I did he didn't want me, he put me in foster care when I was a baby. I hate them all, and they all get rid of me as fast as they can. Once I'm eighteen, it'll be over. I'll take care of myself."

"That's three years away, Blaine."

"Yeah? So? Three years to plan how I want to die."

"What?" Kurt shouted, causing Blaine to stop in his tracks, the sapphire fire boring into his hazel eyes. He almost felt as if he were melting under their gaze. "You're seriously contemplating _suicide? _Why in the name of heaven would you do that? Blaine, seriously, you're not going to just kill yourself when you have the option to live. Not under my watch."

"One, I don't believe in heaven," Blaine started, shaking his finger at Kurt and moving closer to him, "Two, _I have no future, I'm a lost fucking cause,_" Blaine said, voice going even lower. Kurt tried to back away, and looked inevitably terrified, which thrilled Blaine to the core, "And three," He said, grabbing the soft, silky cloth of the boy's shirt, "_You have no control over me whatsoever."_ And with that, Blaine shoved the angel hard, a force that was strong enough that he fell over onto the ground. Blaine was about to walk away, but heard shivering cries coming from the being below him. Blaine frowned. "What?" He asked commandingly, which cause the other boy to whimper and curl up into a ball. He was definitely shivering now if he wasn't before. Blaine was overwhelmed. One second, Kurt had stood proud and tall when Blaine threatened him, but this…

Blaine eventually sat down next to Kurt, who cried for at least five minutes. Blaine debated whether or not to touch him in an act of comfort, but decided against it due to him knowing that fear only worsens with contact, especially contact from the threat. In time, Kurt sat up, still shivering, but no longer crying.

"I… Sorry." Kurt said simply, then stood up and looked down at Blaine. "The look in your eye… It just… It reminded me of the murderers." And with that, Kurt actually started away down to the bus stop. Blaine frowned, then got up to follow him. Just as Blaine was about to reach him, however, Kurt started off in a dash, then took flight by extending his black and gold wings that glistened beautifully in the sunlight. Blaine, a bit perplexed by the sudden action, found himself simply gazing at the creature as he glided around in a circle, similar to the way a hawk circles its prey. Blaine continued his way down to the bus stop, glancing up every now and then in wonder as the golden wings sparkled in the sun. Blaine absently scratched at his neck, right on top of the dragon tattoo, before remembering his time of nearly dying, when he was so close to death he could see it… Had it been Kurt that saved him? How else were his scars fixed so quickly? What had happened back there in the alley? He had so many questions for Kurt that he knew he'd never ask. How could he ask for information from this boy? He was exactly the kind of kid he liked to beat up at school. Maybe that was why he was afraid to try and befriend him? Blaine didn't have time to ponder it as the bus rolled to a stop, and the door opened. Blaine took one last glance up, only to see Kurt still circling around, but now in a bigger circle. _I guess he isn't going to ride with me, not that I blame him. _He waited and let the other kids at the stop get on first.

Blaine sat in his usual seat, seat 22, which was in the back of the bus by his friends. Well, his sort of friends. 'Gang' was the more likely term. As soon as he took his seat, the bus rumbled forward and off to his school, Dalton Academy. A long time ago, it was a strict anti-bullying school, but after the head of the school, Jack Dalton had passed, it quickly became an unsafe environment. Nobody was quite sure how the all-boy prep academy had turned conditions so quickly, but after the enormous amounts of feuds in America over the past two-hundred years, it was hard to find anything like a sanctuary in Ohio anyways. It was about fifteen minutes to get to Lima from Elida, which was where Teresa lived, so Blaine had plenty of time to talk to his gang. But today, he just didn't feel like it. Instead, he sat staring out the window, watching as magnificent golden wings brushed across the pastel-painted sky.

"Hey, dude, what do you think?" Dave, one of his friends, said, breaking Blaine's concentration on the outside. Blaine did a double take and glanced at the crowd staring at him. Most of their faces were filled with piercings, and all of them had tattoos on their neck, depending on their animal of choice. It was the gang's symbol.

"I'm sorry, I spaced out. What?" Blaine said, shaking his head.

"Dude, seriously?" Dave said, shaking his head. Blaine always was closest to Dave after Antonio's accident. His animal was a vicious grizzly bear, tattooed on in black and white. "Anyways, we were going to go rob the bank tomorrow night. You in?" He asked, still looking Blaine over. Blaine was just about to smile and reply that yes, he'd be glad too, when he felt a sharp pain in his head that practically screamed _NO!_ Blaine glanced out the window, and saw Kurt literally gliding a few inches away from the window, the wing closest to the bus apparently raised up over the bus's roof. Kurt scowled at him. _Can he hear what I'm thinking?_

"_Dude!_" He heard David shout, bringing his attention back to the gang, who was frowning at him. "Are you, like, sick or something?" He asked, perplexed apparently.

"No, I'm fine…" Blaine replied, shaking his head. He chanced a glance at the window, but when he did the boy was gone again. He then found himself turning to the other boys, not even aware of his actions at all. "I'm not going to do that, sorry guys. I've got really important plans tonight." Blaine said, without even thinking about it. _What the hell?_

"_I'm saving your ass, moron." _He heard Kurt whisper in his ear. He watched as the other thugs just turned away from him, glaring menacingly at him, as if he had rabies. Blaine turned away in embarrassment at what he had said. He watched as that same flash of light occurred and Kurt appeared, sitting next to him. Blaine was tempted to make some sort of snarky remark, but refrained due to the company he was in.

"Just so you know, the only reason I did that is because they're going to all be in either the hospital or jail tomorrow, and you'd be among them." Kurt said, looking solemnly at the others. "I really wish I could save them, too, but strict orders say I can't. Well, I don't think I can, at least not without you suffering the consequences." Kurt looked over at Blaine. "In case you were wondering, I have a bit of a sixth sense; I can tell if an activity could result in death. There's going to be a police at the bank tomorrow when they break in, and he will have a gun, and he will shoot them. That one over there is going to get shot in the brain, he'll be a vegetable for the rest of his life." Kurt said, nodding over at Robert, a dark-skinned man who was of relatively abnormal height. The animal tattooed on his neck was a rabbit, because he owned a black rabbit that he called Scott, who was known for biting everyone who tried to touch him. Robert was actually missing the end of his pinky, supposedly from getting bit by his rabbit. Blaine had never much cared for him anyways. "Some of the others will get shot in the arm." Kurt sighed. "You really hang out with the wrong crowd." Blaine turned away at this. He was slightly taken aback by the listed fate of his friends. Was Kurt pulling his leg?

_What about me? What if I went? _Blaine thought.

"You'd be the one actually taking the money from the banker, the one holding the gun. He'd shoot you first, and he'd shoot you right in your jugular with perfect precision. I'm pretty sure it'd be, in your terms I guess, a one-hit K.O." Kurt said, apparently trying to sound gangster. Blaine slightly scoffed, at the fact he was that close to death, and at the fact Kurt could read his mind.

_All this time and you never told me you could read minds._

"Not just yours, either. Here's an interesting fact, by the way, you're not the only gay member of your gang." Kurt said. Blaine glared over angrily at the invisible boy, absolutely _furious_ that he knew. Little did he know he was scowling right at Dave, for in everyone else's eyes, Kurt wasn't there.

"Dude, seriously, what the fuck is your problem today?" Dave said, glaring back.

"I think maybe he's high. Or drunk. Or both." He heard the scrawny emo-kid, Jared, say. He had dyed his hair black and was inevitably anorexic; he had hardly any muscle at all. The animal on his neck was, fittingly, a snake.

"I… Sorry. Rough weekend. Got in a fight, head hurts." Blaine said, looking away. He could practically feel the rest of them rolling their eyes at him.

"The scrawny one's gay." Kurt said, nodding his head towards Jared, who was now engaged in an undertone conversation with Dave, apparently discussing Blaine's odd behavior. "He's known since he was a little boy. He compensates by starving himself and doing marijuana. It's kind of scary, the things going through some of their minds right now. Like the one kid who's going to die tomorrow, you know what he's thinking about? He's thinking about fucking donkeys. And I mean that literally, he's thinking about actually fucking a donkey, I mean, seriously-" Kurt was cut off when Blaine stomped on his foot, silencing him instantly. Blaine knew about some of the weird things that went through his friend's minds, probably because they were all high all the time, but Blaine honestly didn't want to hear about it. Blaine experienced enough of that kind of shit on his own.

_I'm going to ignore you for a little while._ Blaine thought angrily to Kurt, who was looking at him almost concerned.

"Is this about the whole being gay thing? Because if it is, you know damn well I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't even if I could. You know, being a homosexual is a bit of a hardship, but it's better-"

_That word again._ Blaine thought, interrupting Kurt. _Is that it? Homosexuist, or whatever? Is that what it means, being gay?_

"I… Well… Yes." Kurt answered simply. Blaine glanced slightly over at Kurt, who was definitely blushing.

_So you're gay too…_

"Yes."

_And that's why you were embarrassed when I was getting dressed._

"Yes."

_May I ask you something?_ Blaine thought as politely as he could. Kurt nodded next to him. _Did you ever have a boyfriend?_

"Well… No. I… I'd never met another out-and-proud gay teenager before. I knew someone who was closeted, but… He wasn't my type anyways." Kurt said, eyes glazing over at the reminiscing. There was a long pause.

_I'm sorry. _Blaine thought gruffly. _I'm going to ignore you know, like originally promised._ Blaine said, not really wanting to talk about the whole gay thing. Kurt simply vanished out of view, and Blaine was left alone the rest of the ride to school.

* * *

><p>Blaine had been fine up until third hour, which happen to be gym. Being a freshman in high school, he had been a bit naïve when arranging his schedule. Of course he had selected gym as his class right before lunch, so he was always hungry during Gym. And it didn't help when random gay angels appeared next to you while you were changing.<p>

"Actually, I have to admit you have nice abs." Kurt said after examining a nearly-naked Blaine. "Not to attracted by the jungle under your armpit, though." He said, looking away. Blaine couldn't help but snicker at the comment. He had never shaved anything but his face, which even now was covered in stubble, even though he was just fifteen. Everybody agreed that Blaine was more mature than anyone his age. Blaine wanted to make a comment on the other boy's physique, but somehow couldn't think of anything other than _perfect._ _Oh shit, he can read minds, I didn't mean that…_ Blaine thought, suddenly frowning. Kurt actually laughed at him, then winked before slowly walking away, seemingly bouncing with every step he took.

"You know, the nice thing about being dead is you can do pretty much whatever you want, and nobody will know you did it. Like, you know, peek at the other boys when they're showering. Totally the gayest thing I've ever done in my life. Or, my death, actually." Kurt half-shouted, his voice echoing as he walked over to the shower stalls, glancing over at Blaine. Blaine couldn't help but smile at the fact the other boy was actually around the corner looking at other men's junk. It didn't seem like something he'd do. Actually, it did kind of come off as a bit creepy to Blaine.

"Oh relax, I never got to have fun when I was alive, cut me some slack." Kurt said, walking back over to Blaine. Blaine glanced around quickly to assure he was the only one in the aisle of lockers.

"And what are you going to do when I shower?" Blaine whispered, raising an unshaved, thick eyebrow at Kurt. Kurt blushed and quickly turned away.

"There's a difference, I don't know them personally." Kurt added quickly. Blaine shrugged, now clothed in his gym uniform, and made his way out of the locker room and into the gym. Kurt stood beside him in the empty gym. "I think you're early." Kurt stated observably.

"No, everyone else is just a ghost like you and we can't see them." Blaine mocked sarcastically. Kurt shoved him playfully, and Blaine actually smiled at him, before the locker room door opened and some other boys came out into the gym, quickly ending the possible conversation they would have had.

And so gym began.

Obviously the five minute warm-up run was nothing for Blaine, but it kind of made Blaine feel a bit happier that Kurt had chosen to run beside him. Of course, it was apparent Kurt never ran out of breath, because judging by his lean body, he was in no condition to just run for five minutes straight and push it off like it was nothing. Not saying he was fat, it's just that he didn't seem the type to like running.

And then they had to play football.

"Hey, are you on the football team?" Kurt asked as him and the other peers trotted out to the field. Blaine shook his head slightly. "Ah. You know, I was for a brief while. I brought our football team the first victory in a long time. The night we won the game, though… That was the night I decided to come out of the closet. My dad actually accepted me, you know that? He didn't care if I was gay. He loved me anyway." Kurt said, seemingly lost in a bit of a trance. Blaine blinked his eyes intentionally. He wished he had a father that loved him, or even a mother would be nice. "Oh hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset, I'm sorry…" Kurt apologized, and before Blaine knew it, a slender arm was placed around his shoulder, gripping him tightly and comfortingly, but not debilitating his ability to walk. It felt odd, but comfortable. They walked like that until they reached the field, and Kurt released him so he could go play the game.

Blaine could frequently hear Kurt cheering for him from the bleachers, even though Blaine wasn't really doing much but throwing the ball to people. He hated gym.

And then Kurt mysteriously disappeared until after lunch.

Blaine was used to the weird glares by now. Blaine wasn't exactly a sight to see, with his dark brown unruly curls and bushy eyebrows and what-not. But that was okay, he just beat the shit out of anyone who looked at him funny.

Which was basically what he was doing now.

"What, you got a problem?" He shouted at one of the kids in the hallway. She was one of the younger freshmen, one of the nerdier girls, who he knew was in show choir. "Yeah, punk?" He said, fully shoving her into the lockers. A crowd started to gather, yelling chants of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' and the likes. He laughed as the smaller girl ran away, shoving through the crowd to get away. Blaine just smiled at the crowd.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" He heard Kurt yell from behind him as the crowd dispersed into the hallway. He glanced back, then continued walking on his way to fourth hour. "What if that would have been you? How would you have felt?" Kurt said, his voice getting higher and higher pitched with every word he said.

"Implying that I'm a little girl now, princess?" Blaine said through a sigh, trying not to move his mouth too much.

"No, I'm implying you're being a jerk, and you should apologize!" Kurt said, voice dropping a bit lower after the princess comment.

"Make me." Blaine said, knowing fully what Kurt could do to him if he wanted.

"I… I can't." Kurt said, sighing.

"Afraid of me now?" Blaine asked, slightly raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"No, if I tried to help you and you're not on the verge of death… You suffer the consequences of it. And apparently one of the consequences could be death itself, and I'm not risking that." Kurt said. Blaine, of course, had no idea what Kurt was talking about, but not wanting to give Kurt a reason to jump into his mind and read his thoughts, he simply ignored it despite being curious. "I… I can't really explain it to you, Blaine, at least not until you die, which should be at least another eighty years or more." Kurt said. Blaine wasn't sure if Kurt was saying that as an actual prediction of the future, or if he was saying that to imply Blaine should live to be older than eighteen. Suddenly, Kurt vanished, and Blaine was all alone again. Blaine was never sure why Kurt vanished at random points, but he did, and it disturbed him…

* * *

><p>When Blaine arrived home, he was surprised to find Teresa wasn't there. Blaine was sure that Teresa would be here before him like always to make sure he didn't get into too much trouble. It was already 3:15, so the best Blaine could assume was that she had went out and applied for a job or something. Instead, however, Kurt was there in Teresa's chair in the living room, apparently watching whatever was on the small T.V. screen.<p>

"Hello, Blaine." Kurt said cheerily, glancing up at him with his ocean-blue eyes. "How was school?" He asked.

"You should know, you were there the whole time." Blaine replied, sitting on the loveseat next to him, looking at what was flashing on the small T.V. screen. Kurt was watching a show Blaine didn't recognize, one that apparently involved the hardships of being a singer or something like that. They were singing a song that Blaine didn't recognize.

"You know, I've always wanted to be on a show like this. I've always loved singing." Kurt said dreamily. He shook his head solemnly. "And no, Blaine, I'm sad to say I have hardly been with you at all today. After observing your foster mother some more, I decided it would be in her best interest to take a little… Vacation." Kurt added, winking at Blaine. Blaine frowned.

"So… Where is she?"

"She took a little drive to the nearest hotel. And if you're wondering how I convinced her to leave, I should have you know that I've discovered a way to manipulate people's thoughts. Of course, I don't think I'm really _supposed_ to do that, but it's in your best interest, and if the Gods try to punish you for it, I'll stand in front of you and take the hit." Kurt said, nodding at Blaine. Blaine was perplexed instantly. What?

"_Gods?_ Okay, and you expect me to believe that, alright, fine. Why'd you send her away, and what do you mean my best interest?" Blaine asked, glaring darkly at Kurt. Kurt chuckled slightly.

"Blaine. Ever since you were a baby I dreamt of the day I'd meet the real you, meet you as a person, and not a defenseless child." Kurt turned to face Blaine, and took his hands in his own. "I've wanted so bad to meet you, Blaine. I wanted to be like that father you never had. That day when I first saw you, it was a day of panic… You were inches from death, Blaine. That's why I was sent to save you… I was sent… I was sent to protect you, and all these years, I've failed. I failed you, Blaine. I was supposed to be that positive influence on you, I was supposed to be that one man you could look up to. And I failed you." Kurt's eyes showed visible signs of being about to cry.

"… The necklace… There was always something strange about it…" Blaine asked absently, turning away. "It… It wasn't hers, was it?" He asked, glancing innocently up at Kurt, who provided a look of sympathy and shook his head.

"It… It was supposed to be used to help you, but it… It trapped me inside somehow, and that's where I've been the past fourteen and a half years. I've been dangling around your neck most of the time. I… I don't remember much from my imprisonment, but I do remember some things about your life. Some things I really, really wanted to change, but had no power too. I've only seen small glimpses of your life, Blaine, but what I have seen has scared me. The first time you smoked, the first time you got in a fight, the first time you got yelled at by one of your favorite foster fathers, who actually turned out to be mental… I've seen quite a bit, and it's slowly been unveiling itself in my mind all day." Kurt finally released Blaine's hands from his grip, and slowly reached down into his pocket, and held up a small, dangling orb on a golden chain.

"It's… You fixed it." Blaine said as Kurt handed it to him. The orb was ice cold to the touch still, but upon touching it, it swirled with various shades of lightning green and creamy brown. Somehow it comforted him.

"You've never seen your mother, have you? The pictures probably got burned in the fire." Kurt said, looking at the orb. Blaine nodded. "I don't think the orb's original intent was to imprison anyone… I think, just an observation, that it was supposed to show you certain memories from people's past, but you had no information that I could look for… So it incarcerated me, until you were inches from death again. But that's just my observation. I want to try this again, Blaine." Kurt stated, then put his pointer finger on the orb. Colors of bright blue swirled in with the other colors.

"Do you think… Do you think its colors have something to do with the person's eye color?" Blaine asked absently, and Kurt shrugged.

"I don't know. Close your eyes for a second, I want to try something." Kurt said. Blaine obeyed him for once. And this time, when Kurt thought of a specific memory, the memory when he had first ran into the burning building so many years ago, the scene around them changed. It warped from Teresa's living room into a black-and-white version of Kurt's memory of the scene. Blaine opened his eyes, startled.

"What the hell?" He said, turning around, for they were now standing. He looked over at the stout, run-down house that stood before them. Blaine pointed to his chest and whispered in the smallest voice he had, "_Mine?"_ He asked. Sure, he knew that the house he lived in hadn't been nice, but he hadn't imagined it would be a complete dump.

"Yep, that's yours. Don't judge yet, though. The inside is a bit better." Kurt said, walking up the steps, now dragging Blaine behind, for they both held the orb in their conjoined hands. Kurt simply stepped right through the door, and Blaine followed this time, into a room that was in better shape than the outside, but still not as clean as it could have been. And then there was his mother, standing there, beating the fire that was gurgling very lazily, almost like it was in slow motion. Blaine walked over to the woman with long, curly brown hair.

"She…" Blaine started, but didn't finish his sentence. Kurt knew what he meant. She looked just like him, now that he thought about it.

"Your dad must have had brown eyes. Her eyes were green." Kurt added as Blaine inspected his mother. "But yeah, you've got her hair, part of her eye color, and her skin, if I might add. It was tanner, just like yours." Kurt added. He could feel the immense sadness that Blaine felt right now. It was one thing to see a picture, but another to actually see someone who was now dead. Suddenly Kurt released his hand, and Kurt was going to pat Blaine on the back in comfort, but when the orb fell out of their hands, they felt a pulling sensation, and the second they blinked they were back in the living room of Teresa's house, sitting on the loveseat.

"I…" Blaine started, but forgot his sentence and stood, about to turn around and leave for the streets, to go out, to do something criminal to cope with the pain, but Kurt stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Blaine. Don't. Turn around." Kurt commanded nicely, and Blaine almost felt like there was satin seeping out of his voice. Blaine obeyed, his eyes turning red and his brow furrowed in what appeared to be anger. And all Kurt did was pull him into his arms, hugging him, embracing Blaine, trying to make him feel better. Blaine was shorter, which helped, so his head lay gently on Kurt's chest. Kurt hugged him closer when Blaine chest started heaving, and short whines started coming from Blaine's head, that was curled up over his heart. "You're loved, and don't you ever forget that. I know she loved you, I do. She died trying to save you, Blaine." Kurt said in comfort. Kurt became aware that Blaine had stopped sobbing, and was no longer curled into Kurt, but staring at his wing.

"Kurt…" Blaine said in a very serious tone, voice slightly cracking, and suddenly Blaine pulled away from him, looking him dead in the eye. "I know what that D on your wing means."

* * *

><p><em>DUN DUN DUNNNNN<em>

_So, what does this mysterious D on Kurt's wing actually mean? So many possibilities! And no, the story isn't going to revolve around the mystery of the D. I am not a fan of mystery stories. But yes, tune in next time and Blaine will shed light on the situation._

_~hides in corner~ ._. Don't hurt me for my horrible time interpretation skills... I'm new to the whole 'time exists' thing... I'll find a way to do it eventually ._._


End file.
